


Trying to Understand

by FoxesAtNightInTailcoats



Category: South Park
Genre: AU, College, F/M, I wish there was a high-school drama cartoon of South Park, M/M, Neglect, Slight Crenny, Trauma, Under age drugs, don't give me that look, under age drinking, under age sex, we know what sort of environment these guys are in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxesAtNightInTailcoats/pseuds/FoxesAtNightInTailcoats
Summary: College offers are being given and Tweek has made a choice that seemingly has come out of the blue to all, but especially to his earstwhile boyfriend. Craig is NOT amused ...  (originally started with half a chapter on FanFiction...)





	1. Food is Obviously Essential for Traumatic Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I've been a slack and lazy writer (as drawing is more my thing, but have been even lazy at that, hah!) Anyways, this is my first fic for the fandom. I write a lot in my head, though (keeps me amused). Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Also, rating might change up later.

I stared at my boyfriend, slightly in shock. I probably had toast dangling from my lips at this point, I'm not 100% sure though. What I was sure of was that he had just said something very, very unexpected. Something monumental.

And as it was morning, and I am (famously) not a morning person, I was very, very unprepared to deal with this news.

'What?!' Whole Food's granery toast sprayed out of my mouth with the force of my alarm, causing my mother to admonish me with a sharp 'Craig!' Yeah, makes sense she would remark on that and not on the bombshell my significant other just dropped.

'It's just that ... I've been thinking ... umm....' Tweek looked down into his lap, hands suddenly there twisting at each other. I didn't make a move to stop them, however, my staring must have gone on for slightly too long and they reached up for his hair. That's when I found myself automatically moving forwards to dis-entangle them, the move so ingrained I didn't even notice I was doing it until he raised his massive green eyes to mine and I realised our noses were almost touching.

FLASH! Ruby had clicked a photo on her phone and dashed off giggling 'Super Cute!'

The seriousness of the situation was cemented for me when I didn't immediately rush after her swearing obscenities and flipping fingers. Instead I stayed with Tweek, shakily taking my fingers from his and trying to find my chair that was somewhere, anywhere, behind me ... somewhere .. WHERE WAS THAT FUCKING CHAIR?!

'Craig.' Tweek now reversed our roles and came to my aid, softly grasping my arm and slowly and carefully guiding me into my seat. Our knees were touching and I realised I was trembling.

'Craig. This is what I want to do. I want to be a primary school teacher. And I've been accepted at UCLA.'

 

0O0

 

'I thought he wanted to be an engineer?' Clyde was sitting opposite me at the local Mid Park MacDonalds, softly banging his feet against the bottom of the booth's seat. Well, not so softly that it didn't earn him a swift kick from me under the table as a warning to stop. 

'Fuck you!' was his reply, and then in a typical Clyde move he also threw fries at me. Sometimes that bitch can be so childish. But he's my best bro. Always has been since we were two and our family moved in next to his. It was sort of 'destined to be' or some such bullshit. We bonded over his green and red striped ball, which he had accidently let roll onto our lawn that summer's day. Ahh, nostalgia. Because I was interested in a gaudy striped rubber ball I ended up with a tubby, excitable (and emotional) best friend. Who to the outsider they would think that I hated (if they were being creepy and studying us like we were some sort of socialogical experiment) but in thinking that they would be dead wrong, I loved the guy. I just didn't show it very well, that was all. My bad, I guess? 

Eh, whatever.

Anyways after cursing at me and throwing fries (and kicking me back for good measure) Clyde tried to actually act like a best friend again. 'Craig. Didn't Tweek want to be an engineer? Why teaching? Why primary teaching? It doesn't make sense.'

He was right, painfully correct. Tweek had wanted to be an engineer most of his teenaged life (except for that short span where he decided he was the next Leonardo di Caprio or something, screw that 'kiss my ass mutherfuckers' phase, god he was a nightmare for a few months then!). Tweek drew up plans for water engines for desert places for science fairs (and came 3rd to North Park suckups who's parents greased the wheels behind the scenes, assholes) and had been working on a project in his own time (read: One-in-the-morning-when-he-couldn't-sleep) for a home that would be environmentally friendly and more efficient with energy resources in our snowy butt cold hell hole of a town. 

Yes, my boyfriend was exceptionally gifted and interested in this area. He had the smarts, the passion and the drive to go far in this field. Anyone fucking knew this.

I stared down at my half eaten burger, feeling too uneasy to finish the limp, overcooked mess. This whole situation wasn't right. It was weird. Really weird.

'And why didn't you know? Why didn't he tell you? You're his boyfriend, you're in love....'

As anyone who knows Craig Tucker knows, he doesn't do weird. Or strange. Or out of the ordinary. Screw that. And screw this hunk of chemicals claiming to have once been part of a cow.

'Craig? C'mon man, talk to me' Clyde knew my moods well after being my bestie for so long, and apparently he didn't like where this one was going.

His intuition proved correct as we were ejected from the land of cardboard burgers five minutes later after I had hurled my whole tray with the offending leftovers at the wall.


	2. Break For An Obvious Angel

When I approached the back of the store he was sitting in his customary position, on the crate requisitioned for that purpose. The heavy rear door was propped open with a box full of half a delivery's worth of vacuum sealed coffee packets. One earbud was in with the other dangling down over the front of his olive green apron, looking like it was about to dunk into the coffee cup embroidered on the bib. His strong sturdy fingers (not chubby, they avoided that, but they definately were not slender or overly-long) were occupied with tasks, the left with a cigarette, its smoke gently pluming into the sky, the right with gently tapping out the tunes to his music on his knee. 

What separated this view from being the normal 'barista takes a fucking break for fucking once' picture was the hair. That golden, untameable mess that did what it pleased on most days and refused to be tamed, no matter what my sister (or my cousin, or Bebe of the 'please, why the fuck would you want curls for, you can't DO anything with them' hair, or Nichole ... sigh, the list goes on of the girls who loved sitting Tweek down to play with his hair. Not that I blamed them. Not at all. It was, after all, fucking unbelievably soft and it smelt sometimes of apples or honey or just Tweek ... and the way he closed his eyes and sort of almost seemed to purr whenever you touched the spun sugared mass that was his mane ... his shoulders relaxing and dropping in contentment .....)

Woah. With him sitting right there not ten feet away and me wanting to have a serious talk this probably wasn't the best line of thought for me at this minute.

But his hair, though. The sun was catching it now and it was pratically radiating silver. Silver with flashes of gold, an angels' halo. And this, coupled with the relaxed state and the dropped eyelids and the occassional glimpse of how his lips looked pursed coyly around the cigarette, and how they looked directing the smoke out of his lungs and into the general atmosphere...  


Ok, my resolve had crumpled and I'll admit it. Tweek had me whipped. Had done for a long time. 

And he fucking knew it.

Still didn't mean I wasn't going to fight him on this one, though. I mean, what the fuck. Primary school? Tweek? What the hell were you thinking, dude?

 

Walking up to him was always an excercise in itself, I had to make sure I slowly approached in his direct line of sight so as not to startle him. Though the anxiety had gotton a shit-ton better over the years, he still jumped when he noticed me out of the corner of his eye, but at least had the humility to look a little ashamed. He knew this was coming. Most definately.

'Hey'. A solid opening line from me. Start the conversation and let the other person just spill their guts, no effort on my part required. Except that Tweek knew me and called me on my shit a lot.

'Hey'. His reply was equally as vague and cool and he took another drag on the cigarette, flicking the ashes away afterwards. The hazel rings were showing on his irises today I noticed, muddying the intensity of the green and I felt the almost uncontrollable primative urge to grab his cheeks and kiss him until we both couldn't breathe. 

As it was, I looked at the ground and dug at it with the point of my converse whilst he waited. But for all my former bravado and glaring anger I suddenly found I didn't have anything to say.

'I'm back on shift in two minutes,' he prompted 'I'll be on 'till four today'.

I knew this, of course. He always sent me his roster every week. And he knew I always memorised it and diarised it in my phone. Not because I was sad, mind you, but out of habit, one I got into when we were younger and his medication of the time caused him to often forget shit. A second memory prompt is useful in that sort of situation, and Tweekers had been grateful for the help. 

Back in the present, there was one last pull on the nicotine by perfectly pale lips and then those capable fingers with their blunt, short and maintained nails were tossing the butt into an old coffee can half filled with dirt and kept by the side of the makeshift seat for that purpose. Tweek rose, pulling out the earbud and pocketing his phone in his apron. Walking the few steps between us slowly, he gently pulled me into an embrace, those strong muscular arms protectively gathering around my back. 

'I'll see you at four.' he whispered. Then, pulling back slightly he let me glimpse a cheeky flash in his eyes before his lips were on mine for a too-short kiss. I then felt them ghosting my ear which caused me to involuntarily shudder. But that wasn't what was on Tweek's mind this time.

'Please don't get us banned from any other food joints in town.' 

He released me and turned towards the door, snickering and not bothering to turn back to see if my middle finger was raised, knowing full well that it was.


	3. A Locker Will Not Hold You In A Crisis

The seniors at Park County High had two corridors in the main school block's upper east wing to themselves for lockers, built along an L shape. Starting at Room 212 the double decker rows of dull metal were filled with doors that were bent and scratched from years of misuse by years of previous students banging them shut, punching them, punching others against them and of course the wildest throes of passion teenagers are allowed to participate in within a public setting.

There was none of that going on at the moment, however. Traditionally this was the time period where at our school students hastily tried to drop stuff from period 3 and grab whatever materials that were needed for period 4 before scurrying off in a panic.

I was not currently in the mood to be crossed. My talk with Tweek yesterday after his shift had not gone well in my honest, deep down, definately won't tell anyone else opinion.

_'I know that it seems sudden, Craig'. Well, he wasn't fucking wrong. 'But it isn't so much for me. It's just that .... well, I've been doing some thinking over the past year or so'._

_We had been walking to his house along the normal route. Down the side of the park and along the road. Spring had just begun in South Park, and that meant that a chill was clearly felt the air as the sun contemplated going down behind the mountains that ringed our town. South Park never really got warm until July, and then it was only consistant for one or two weeks._

_'I didn't want to tell you until I was certain myself.'_

_I had remained in silence. I was still pissed at him, I was determined to be pissed. As far as I was concerned, he had betrayed me by keeping silent on his plans. Major plans. Damnit, he didn't get to do that!_

_A year. He had been thinking about this for a year and had not even let a hint of it escape to me._

_My hands had shoved deep into my hoodie pockets, giving the rounded slant to my shoulders which I think I adopted years ago, a posture bourne out of self defence when it was clear my body was going to try and grow as tall as it possibly could (which was also about the same time the orthodontist decided I was old enough to get braces to fix my fucked up teeth, ergo, I was very self-concious in that time period of my life)._

_It was my go-to pose when sulking. So much so my mom loved to poke me in the side with her finger in a playful attempt I never appreciated to get me out of it by making me jump (my dad would often just slap me over the back of the head and say 'stop with the attitude, boy!)_

_Beside me Tweek had been unconciously mirroring me, his hands in his hoodie, (coral red today), head bowed. The colours of it were too bright for me, they had hurt my vision and my senses somehow. My brain had felt fused and I felt a headache had started to form over my right eye._

_'Why?' My own voice had startled me, I hadn't known I was going to speak. 'Why didn't you think ... ' I had trailed off at this point._

_'I told you. I wasn't sure it was what I wanted. I thought ...' Turning away, he had mumbled the rest as if having a conversation with the ground._

_It had been five minutes later and in the safety of his bedroom where my boyfriend finally managed to give me the whole explanation for his seemingly snap decision._  


_'I've been thinking about it for a long time, Craig. On and off, that is. You know when I went down to Chicago the other fall holidays, to Aunt Sophie and Uncle Gregs'? My cousin was talking there how she was enjoying her placement and every night she would have stories about what the kids did that day, and we discussed lesson planning and stuff like that, and, I don't know, it seemed fun'._

_'But engineering!' I had blurted out, my eyes unconciously looking around at the models on the shelf over his desk. 'You're good at it, Tweekers. You're AMAZING at it. You've wanted to do it forever'._

_Tweek had sighed, looking over his models himself. 'I enjoy engineering, but I don't think I would like it as a day in, day out job. I never actually said that I want to do it forever, that was you and Clyde saying that. I like people, Craig. I want to work with people. I want to give this a shot.'_

_What he had really been asking me here now for was my permission. For my understanding. And, because he was Tweek Tweak, the love of my so far short life, I did not deny him._

_'If you're sure, Coffee Bean'. I only ever called him that in our closest moments, I did so then so that he'd know I was considering this a serious time._

_He had looked up at me with those massive eyes, those eyes I loose myself in every time I even glance into them. 'I'm sure, Craig. I'm totally sure'._

_However, I hadn't been as convinced and I sure as hell knew deep down inside that I was still only saying yes to Tweek and the whole situation because I really didn't have a choice. It was Tweek's life, therefore Tweek's decisions. I had only spent half an hour extra with him after that, claiming a shit-ton of Physics homework that needed to be completed by the next day's lesson. It had made me feel shitty, leaving like that, but I knew I had to get out and away, my nerves were absolutely shot as the adrenaline ramped up higher through my body and the ants started to writhe under my skin in a message that I was overstimulated. In a situation like this, the best place for me was my darkened room, lying on the bed. So that's where I had retreated to, and I spent the next six hours delving for solutions in my head and coming up blank every time, until sleep had finally and mercifully put me out of my misery for a few hours._

This is what had been going over and over through my mind since I had woken up that morning, a massive tension headache making itself known across my forehead. I had calmed the pain with paracetamol but the frantic thinking would not stop, it was now 12.15 and it was still the only thing to occupy my brain today. It was very much painfully present now as I navigated to the lockers and managed to find mine amongst the other rushing students.

I hastily stuffed my calculus textbook into the small compartment and grabbed my literature notes for the next class, cursing softly all of the while. Closing and locking the small door, I realised that I had forgotton to re-grab my waterbottle and, after retrieving it taking a swig to hopefully help ward off the headache's threatened return I turned and dashed off ... 

... only to crash straight into Wendy Testaberger. With quite a bit of force, I might add. No, I am not sharing the exact calculation for that occurance, my brain doesn't want to think about that particular incident any more than it has to, and it certainly doesn't want to add advanced maths into an already complicated incident mix. Just believe me that Wendy was pissed because I pushed her with force against her open locker door. And those locker doors aren't built for two teenagers to crash into them at speed when they are open, the hinges are definately not solid.

You would think that this would be a known factor, horny teenagers and all. As stated before, those lockers had seen a lot of stuff that if they were sentient I bet they would wish to unsee.

But nope, the upshot of this was that the locker door broke and Wendy and I tumbled to the ground, her painfully on top of the locker door and my big-ass body on top of her, increasing the force of impact. She was roaring at me, literally roaring, and I tried to gracefully pull myself off her as gently as I could. Other students had formed a viewing around us, laughing and snapping pictures on their phones. Not one of the ass-hats offered help and so I was the one who extended my hand out to Wendy and helped her gain her feet again.


	4. Gossip Makes A School Go Round

If you think that Wendy and I don't get along, think again. Wendy and I actually get along perfectly well. Really well, in fact.

Back in 6th grade, way back in the mists of time, we were paired up by our teacher to do some sort of history report together. She practically dragged me to her house that very afternoon in order to start on it, and not even my Tucker powers of protest (read saying 'Nope' very firmly, lots of middle finger work and lowered eyebrows, you know, the usual) could withstand her patented 'if Wendy wants Wendy gets' signature aesthetic. 

It was a surprisingly alright afternoon, we agreed on topic angles, methods of research and how to divide up the work load more easily than I would have thought possible, and all over homemade oatmeal and rasin cookies her dad (he was the one that did the cooking in the family) had made in an effort to show that the Testaburgers were definately over-achievers. And once her parental units did actually show up (one having left work as a software manager at 6.00 pm, the other (a real-estate manager in sales) at 7.30 pm, both constantly showing Wendy by endless example that the goal in life is to crush your opposition through hardwork, grit and determination), they greeted me and extended a dinner invitation. Which was very nice and cosy and they seemed to be genuine in their approach to me. The end of that particular night finished with an invitation to 'Please come again whenever you like, Craig'. Which made me feel wanted and special, and was definately far removed from the experience that I usually seemed to recieve from the most of the parents of the kids I hung out with.

Since then I have spent quite a lot of time with Wendy on projects. We tend to pick many of the same subjects each year (the sciences, literature, etc.) and she says that our 'writing and project management styles agree'. Also she has commented more than once that she likes that I actually think on an assignment. Apparently, I try to 'gain insight' about the topic. We laugh a lot. Wendy is ruthless, but she can make a project fun if you are willing to put in the same amount of effort.

The Testaburger parentals have continued to stay cool with me over the years, I'm not sure what I have done to impress them. Occasionally one or the other of them would accidentally call me 'Stan' in the very beginning, (hair colour I guess?) but that was quickly navigated past and I became 'Craig' in my own right, their daughter's friend and study partner. 

Then I think that they started dropping hints that I was perhaps better than Stan? Wendy and he were doing the on-again/off again thing a lot at the time, and the down periods between each try were getting longer and longer. I often had to hear her cuss him out for at least 10 minutes before we could get down to business on our work. I don't know what her parents were implying if they were even implying anything at all, maybe it was just my ego enjoying the moment, maybe I interpreted it wrong. But they sure seemed happy to see me anytime I would show up and would try and give me and Wendy space to be alone 'to get on with things'.

It's something I didn't really think about at the time. I was too focused on one tousel-haired coffee addict.

I'm pretty sure that Wendy is actually, deep down, quite lonely. But she would never admit it to anyone and I've never broached it to her. 

Some great friend I am. 

Anyway, re helping her up after our little 'scene' at the lockers. Remember, I held out my hand to her in an offer of contrition?

She took me up on the offer, scowling at me from under those perfect bangs. Wendy had never been one to hold back on her opinions when she felt they were warrented. Part of the whole 'take over the world by force' mantra.

'Sorry' I intoned, trying to show her with my eyes that I actually really was sorry. 

'Asshole' she replied. I think that was a bit of a relflex reaction by that point, most people I know call me that at some stage. However, the anger had started to leave her face, and she turned around to view the back of her sweater.

'That damned door, I think it actually injured me'. 

I wasn't about to be the one lifting Wendy's sweater and looking up at her back, especially not whilst we had a live audience. So I made a suggestion.

'Nurses' office?'

She nodded and we set off down to administration.

 

Whilst we went down to medical (yeah, it ended up Wendy did have quite a big scratch on her back, luckily her tetanus shot was up to date but it's still a pretty shitty thing to have had happen to you) the videos and pictures of me on top of her on the floor went viral around the school. Kids are dumb. I should know. I am one. But fuck, who gets off on this sort of shit? 

Meanwhile, Wendy and I had started casually talking. The nurse had let us sit in sick bay for the rest of the period to allow us to 'recover', (really though I think she was trying to avoid a lecture from Wendy's mom if she had forced her child to go out injured before she was ready). 

'So, I heard from Bebe, who heard from Annie, who got it from Jenny ....'

Already I had a feeling that I was going to regret staying around for this conversation. I got enough gossip from Clyde and I found the whole scene boring. But skipping class was skipping class, so sit through it I would.

'That Tweek has been seen having coffee with this girl ...'

Shit Wendy, warn me next time before dumping that sort of news on me! My shock must have physically showed, too, I think I actually made a protesting whining noise before struggling to blank my face to its normal glare. And struggling was the word, here, I had never been less prepared or more surprised to hear a bit of gossip. Wendy looked at me with concern, anyways, which seemed to agree with my assessment of my own immediate situation.. 

'I'm not saying there's any funny business going on! ' Now she was hastily trying to reassure me. But what she followed it up with was less than comforting. 'Just that apparently she was pretty and they seemed to be having a great time. They were seen in the IHOP at North Park on Monday evening.'

Monday. That was five days ago. And I was only hearing of this now. 

'Wendy, you know this school runs on gossip.' I held up my phone pointedly as I said this, the better to make the point as showing on it was one of the many videos of our small 'adventure' that we had just brightened the school's day with today. 'It could have been someone else.'

(Monday. Where was I on Monday after school? I hadn't been studying with Wendy. Oh, that's right. Our bastard chemistry teacher (actually Mr Pack was pretty cool but suddenly in this moment I decided he was unreasonable beyond all existence) had decided to throw in a few extra study sessions and Token and I had decided it was worth our time to attend. Wrong decision, Tucker, I was now thinking).

'C'mon Craig, NO-ONE else around here in the whole of Park County looks like Tweek. Do you know of anyone else around here that looks like Tweek?'

No. No I did not. No one else had that hair for starters. Jenny might not have got close enough to clock whether this fake Tweek's skin was fine and porcelain, or to check the colour of his eyes, and she probably for definate couldn't tell if this guy was the real Tweek by the gestures he made, could she? She didn't know him that well, she hadn't studied him that much? Who knew with these girls?

Shit, now internally I was starting to panic, and so I tried to control it at all costs. 

'Jenny, and Annie, and all the gossip you girls get into can go to hell,' I snarked quite rudely, jumping down off the bed. 'If Tweek was meeting a girl I'd know. You've all got it wrong.'

'Craig,' Wendy tried softly, but I was already making my way out of the door. My brain had taken too much of a beating in the last few days, too much people work, to much unexpected information, too much excitement of the bad kind. I needed peace and quiet, I needed calm, I needed....

I needed a cigarette. And so I high-tailed it to the loading dock.


	5. Beware the Water, it Could Kill You

Let us press pause for a moment here and discuss Token.

Everyone has that one friend who you know has the most common sense and practicality in a crisis. Well, I guess I'm assuming here, but everyone I know at least sure does. Wendy and Annie fullfilled that role for the girls. Kenny and Kyle seemed to take turns being The Practical One for Stan and Those Assholes. In our group, it probably doesn't come as a surprise that our main man for this position was Token.

Token was calm, rational, levelheaded. He was also smart and actually gave a fuck, all the good qualities you want at least one person you know well to possess. The money angle helped, too, although we tried not to rely on that, that would be a dick move. We loved Token for who he was and he, in turn, chose to stick with us even though it was apparent we were loosers and he could do better.

Yeah, even I admitted that one.

Token was the one who had noticed that morning that I wasn't feeling 'cool with it'. But he hadn't said anything apart from, apparently, asking Clyde for a few particulars. Toke knew in general when I was feeling pissy it was best just to let me work it out for myself. And I'm ashamed to say, I got pissy a lot. Just call me 'Angst Tucker'. But not to my face. Not if you don't want a fist to it.

What I'm trying to say here is that Token is really cool and I appreciated him being a friend far more than I ever showed him. But I digress.

  
The lunch bell had gone pretty soon after I had arrived in the loading dock and so the peacful alone time of reflection I had wanted to have with my nicotine was interrupted by the usual crowd of other addicts and posers all eager to get their hit in. I was halfway through my stick and decided to continued to finish it even as my space was invaded, knowing that inside in the cafeteria it would be worse and the noise a hundred times louder.

It was only when I saw that damned bright orange parka enter the area out of the corner of my eye and start to weave its way in a dedicated manner towards my corner that I decided to get out of there properly. Dodging around a group of three girls for cover and making a dash for the door I successfully made my way into the lunch line without being accosted by that nosey son-of-a-bitch.

Ninja Ginza: 1/ Gossip Boy: 0

The queue was moving as slow as always and so I looked across the dining hall to our crew's usual table. Token, Clyde (arms flapping as per usual, mouth moving, possibly talking whilst eating, gross), Jimmy, Kevin, Francis and, down the bottom, Nichole, Stephanie (that otaku-style chick originally from North Park - Clyde was interested in her, I think, so was Stoley, but actually she hung around with Butters a lot, go figure), Lola and Esther. Ocassionally one of our set would switch tables for a lunch, but in general that basically was our eating group and had been for two years now.

There wasn't a place left for me, but I knew bodies would shift aside when I showed up. They were well trained like that. What was concerning me, though, was that I couldn't see Tweek ....

I ended up stumbling forwards before I realised that I was up on my toes (what, even 6.4 isn't enough height sometimes!), the consequences of some of the kids behind me deciding that the line wasn't moving fast enough for them to get to the un-appetizing slop that was deemed food by our school board and pushing to get at it. By the time I recovered I found I was actually up to the sandwich options, and focused on moving slightly more forwards until I could snag a burnt slice of crap that went by the complete misnomer of 'pizza'. Just to be fair on my body, I picked out an apple from the fruit basket by the till as well, and, after paying, I hurriedly made my way to 'Craig's Gang's Territory', not to enforce my leadership, but to find out where the fuck Tweek was.

I didn't like it when I didn't know he was ok. Yeah, go ahead, call me possessive, I've heard it all before. However, the fact was that sometimes Tweek's conditions and medications got him into some awful situations that he needed assistance or comfort in.

Most of the time, if he was missing for over five minutes and we knew he wasn't at Drama practice, he would be seriously fighting his body in a bathroom somewhere, either up and out or down and out. But his current medication was not new, and he had been on it for some months now, allowing him to become used to it.

So that was Drama and possibly bathroom out. I mentally ticked off the other ideas for his whereabouts in my head, possibly he could be asleep? Maybe, but he hadn't seemed like he needed it particularly this morning, despite our charged discussion. I knew he was sleeping better these days anyways. So, then, what else? Cigarette? Tweek didn't normally smoke during school hours, he wasn't a total addict like me, more of an appreciator on break-time at work. Besides, I didn't see him out there. OK, options left. Skipping school. A distinct possibility, but what would be the motive?

I didn't hear Token calling my name until I had stood there like a colossial dork, staring into space with my tray in hand for a good two minutes. It was only when he had stood up and my eye registered the movement that I snapped out of it and turned my vision to see him patting the seat beside him on the end of the row. As I moved into place past him Clyde sniggered and called me one of my private nicknames.

'Space Cadet!'

  
I scowled heavily and flipped him. It was Tweek who had given me that god-awful lable, and Tweek was the only one who could call me it - and then only if I was feeling generous enough to allow him.

'Clyde'. That from Token was, as we all knew, a gentle warning. However I could hear that he too had amusement in the back of his tone. Shit, if the positions were reversed and we had done something like that to Clyde I know for sure I would not let that slide. I would be teasing Clyde until the tears came out. But I have never been good at 'shoe on the other foot'. And I knew as well Token would be admonishing me in that situation.

'Where's Tweek?'. I had decided on the straight up approach with my friends today, I was the leader, after all, and I wasn't in the mood for mucking around.

Token looked at me and I stared straight back at him. If he knew something I wanted to know what it was, no bullshit. I trusted Toke. Clyde I knew would leave out facts and not tell me things in order to spare me truths. Tweek would distract me with kisses and caresses in order to soothe me or hide information, and that method from him worked too god-damned well. But Token always dealt with me straight, albeit gently.

'He's in a meeting. He said he'd be here soon. Sit.' Token accompanied his statement with putting his hand on my arm and exerting gentle pressure in order to get me to park myself on the seat. See, what did I tell you? Straight shooter and caregiver. Toke was 100% pure gold.  
But it was now the message I was worried about. Meeting? With whom?

'He said to tell you not to worry'. Clyde was now also in on the act, stuffing pizza in one hand, soda in the other and, yes, as predicted he was chewing as he talked. Clyde had had fourth period with Tweek, so he was the source here and I started to stare him down so he would release to me the details of the conversation. My buddy picked up on the hint, washed down his 'food' with some cola and added 'He said he knows you will worry. And told me to tell you not to. And that you're a dork that's bringing down his, ummm, I can't remember the word. Some fancy word. Anyway, he says that you falling on Wendy is making him look stupid'.

At that anger instantly flushed my face and I stood up abruptly, it took all of Tokens 'Clyde shut-the-fuck-up!'s and all of his strength to pull me back down. By this time our whole table was gawping, the girls on the end included, but being as mad as all hell I didn't care. I could feel my cheeks and ear-tips getting hot and then suddenly I felt sick.

 

Tweek thinks I'm making him look stupid.

 

Tweek's not sharing with me his life decisions.

 

  
_Tweek has been seeing a girl behind my back. A pretty girl. He's been having coffee and laughing._

 

  
I didn't notice Clyde's look change from interest in his lunch to outright concern. I did notice Token trying to get me to drink some water. 'You ok, Craig? You know that Clyde just delivered that message stupid, don't you? You know that's not what Tweek meant, right?'

I couldn't get the water down, it was sticking in my throat and I started to choke. Token instantly started thumping me on the back, this action completing his transition into Super Group Mom Token.

'What is going down, Tucker?' he questioned quietly enought for the rest of the table not to hear as soon as I was stable enough to not need physical intervention any more. I hiccupped and rubbed my eyes, the coughing fit had brought on involuntary tears and they were streaming. 'Is this about Tweek going to UCLA? Do you want to talk about it?' His eyes were serious and his face showed great concern. 'We can talk about it later, if you want'. Token, that bastion of sense, also knew that the school cafeteria was possibly (read DEFINATELY) not the best venue for a heart-to-heart.

He passed me a napkin and I rubbed my eyes and blew my nose on it firmly. Fuck choking. Fuck everything.

At which point an arm draped itself around my shoulders in an uninvited manner.

I went to shrug it off, only the body it was attached to had slid in on the half-bum's worth of seat end beside me and then flicked their hip against mine in a signal to 'shuffle up'. Which I automatically did and found Token had already done his own moving, leaving space.

All of this occured in a fraction of a second and by then I had realised who it was beside me. My head instantly gravitated towards his shoulder, seemingly of its own accord, his other arm went around me too and most of the anger, fear and frustration I was feeling was eclipsed by the amazement of being snuggled by the person I loved most in the world.

The fly in the ointment, as my Grandma used to say, happened soon enough though.

'Hah, Fucker, you look like shit!' And with that our table got a very univited visitor in the form of a grinning like a maniac, orange-parka'd bastard .

Ninja Ginza: 1/ Gossip Boy: 1


	6. How Far Does a Friendship Stretch?

Kenny was someone who I had very mixed feelings about.  Actually, I'll go out on a limb here and state that I think he evoked that response in most people.  Ask anyone who knew him and you would get many different answers (with the obvious 'cute', 'hot' and 'sexy' among the top replies, yes, Kenny was all of those things, even I'd admit to that).  But then there was 'kind', 'generous' and 'smart'.  Because he got these regularly too and they were also accurate assessments.  
  
But, seeing as we're going in threes here, the trio of characteristics that made me nervous regarding one Kenneth McCormick were 'knows exactly what is going on with anyone at any one time', 'is very tactile and often horny' and 'can produce drugs out of thin air'.  
  
When we were all about 14, in the first year of high school and parties began to be at least a monthly occurrance, I personally found out the hard way that Kenny often used these skills in order to gain what he wanted.  And that what he wanted was from me was flings, not long term relationships.    
  
What, you think I've only been with Tweek since we were 10?  Uh, no.  Well, not really.  Kind of?    
  
Tweek and I are too complicated to describe in a few lines.  But back to Kenny.  Much less complication there.  
  
OK.  I'm lying to myself and you about that one too.  
  
Yeah, well, I was down with his (Kenny's) pattern the first few times, (it was exciting, it was new, I had the most sought-after male brat at school paying attention to me, c'mon, who wouldn't go with that?), (also, we looked HOT together, even if I say so myself), but then it started to confuse me when he would suddenly drape himself all over me at lunch or a party and then I'd totally find him kissing someone else around elsewhere later.  That sort of thing might fly with others, but I'm just not made to take it I guess.    
  
I know I'm never going to live down the 'nice and boring' thing, but the reality is that's the way I actually do prefer things.  And Kenny isn't nice and boring.  Anything but.  
  
I've just realised I'm totally leading you astray as to Kenny's character here.  And, to be totally honest, I'm not being as fair to him as I really should be.    
  
See, Kenny's side of the story is a little different from mine.  I've only learnt this recently, and it was actually from Kyle.  
  
  
  
_'Craig?'  A blonde face had come into view, one with freckles and blue eyes, definately not the one I was wanting, but friendly nonetheless.  'Craig, are you sure you should be drinking that?'_  
  
_I had looked at the bottle in my hand.  I hadn't been even counting anymore, I just knew that Tweek ...._  
  
_Tweek had yelled at me to fuck off that afternoon, and the afternoon before and .... and........_  
  
_I hadn't been aware that I was crying until Kenny slid down the wall beside me and took me in his arms.  Being drunk made it all easier, I totally allowed him to do this whereas before it would have been unthinkable.  My tears and snot soaked his T-shirt, yet he didn't seem to give a crap._  
  
_'Shh, Craig.  Shush.  It'll all be ok.  I understand.  It'll all be ok'._

  
  
  
Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself here.  I've not mentioned anything about the circumstances surrounding this little annecdote or any other information. It is a difficult thing for me to even go back to in my mind.  
  
Because in 9th grade, when the above-mentioned incident occured, it wasn't just about Being Freshmen and Parties and Hooking-Up.  
  
For Tweek, and thereby extention us, it was about cold sweats, 911 calls and the distinct possibility of death.  
  
  
  
  
Maybe it had been that we were just used to Tweek being the way he was and hadn't noticed the subtle turn for the worse in his symptoms.  We had known that since we were all five and in kindergarten that he had some sort of weird sounding disorder that caused him to constantly be moving and wiggling in circle time and making weird random noises during story-time, his eyes never still but always winking and blinking manically.    
  
Our early years teachers, to their great credit, explained to us little kids that Tweek couldn't help his actions and that the shrieking, shaking blonde was not to be teased or picked on.  Strangely enough, we listened to them in Tweek's case (I still don't know why we all decided that he was ok but people like Pip could go to hell with all the mocking we could muster).  It wasn't because Tweek was cool, even back then he was afraid of everything and the class just groaned when he went off on a tangent or spoke way too quickly for anyone to understand or pulled his hair in frustration.  
  
We had just grown up with it and didn't question the behaviours beyond 1st grade.  It was just Tweek. And as he grew older, socialised more and then finally integrated into our friendship group, the symptoms seemed to get a bit calmer.  
  
I should state here that we always had, as a gang, helped Tweek deal with his medical issues.  His ADAHD actually required a lot of active managing from him and it frequently left him exhausted yet unable to sleep.  We calmed his paranoia with actual physical actions such as setting traps for underpants gnomes, we let him call us in the night when he couldn't sleep and was scared that the tree making scraping noises outside of his window might have become sentient and be wanting to eat him, we were at his beck and call for any other reason he might need us for.    
  
On his part, Tweek was really cool about it, he tried to get on with his cognitive behavioural therapy and didn't abuse our care for him in any way.    
  
Then there was all of his various medications.   I still think to this day Tweek's drug regime was what started Token onto his idea of wanting to become a doctor.  The Tweak's had a whole kitchen cabinet dedicated to Tweek and Mrs Tweak's various drugs, with Tweek's section gradually becoming more and more prevalent in it as he got older.    
  
I'm still not convinced he needed them all and I personally think that Dr Norris was a shitty pediatric psychiatrist.  I also believe that perhaps Mrs Tweak might have greatly exagerated her son's symptoms, or that she interpreted Tweek's conditions through her own experiences.  But I am not a medical expert, nor am I considered to be an 'adult', those hallowed beings who seem to think only themselves capable of coming to a rational, sensible conclusion on anything in this world.  No, I was merely a stupid kid observer and my opinions, when I bothered to voice them were treated accordingly by my mother, who smiled and said how cute it was that I cared about my friend, and that I was a great mate, etc. etc.    
  
What I do know for certain is that by age 12, when we had been 'boyfriends' for two years, I knew all of Tweek's current medication regime, including what doses he should take and when, and which extra pills should be used for which unusual but possible situation.  This included knowing what could and couldn't be mixed.  It was a lot to take in, but I was determined to be a good friend. I was group leader, damnit, I had to prove I could look after my gang better than Stan did with his clowns!    I took my responsibilities seriously.  
  
  
  
_'Craig.  Craig!'_  
  
_We were in the 7th grade and the class had been History.  The teacher had been going on and on about I don't know what, I was busy trying to fall subtly asleep whilst not allowing my head to drop on the desk when Tweek's frantic whispers came from where he was seated to the desk at my right._  
  
_I remember lazily cracking open one eye in order to scowl at him a bit for interupting my snooze time.  Then almost bolting out of my chair in a panic._  
  
_Tweek's face was flushed bright red and shining with sweat.  His eyes were glassy with tears and they had already spilt out and down his cheeks.  He was holding his jaw tenderly and trying not to whimper._  
  
_I  found myself standing with one arm around him and the other in the air for the teacher before I even knew what I was doing.  'Miss!  Miss! I'm taking Tweek to the Nurse!'.  No ifs, no buts, we were moving before she could give her approval._  
  
_Tweek had been complaining about his teeth for some time .   We had just put it down to fucked up teeth in general. Bad genetics in the enamel department.  I had sympathised, personally knowing the lottery of that one, and told him to get his parents to take him to the dentist.  But Tweek didn't like to be in a medical environment any more than he had to be._  
  
_He lay on the gurney with his head in my lap and I stroked his hair in an attempt to soothe him whilst we waited for one or the other of his parents to pick him up for an emergency dental appointment.  His whimpering didn't cease, nor did his shaking.  We were waiting for half and hour before Mrs Tweak finally showed up, and I found out later it was a further two hour wait for him to be actually seen at the dental surgery._  
  
  
  
It had turned out that particular tooth was abscessed and several more towards the back of his mouth had decayed.   Extensive dental work for him started right then and there, it's hard to tell now which teeth in his mouth are real and which ones are fake.  He'll joke and say it gave him a Hollywood worthy smile, but still, it was a really painful thing for anyone, let alone a kid (and a kid scared of medical procedures at that) to go through.  
  
I wonder how his parents paid for it. They must have had some massive medical bills already.  I'm sure their own mouths would have needed care too.  
  
But still no-one was saying (at least to my knowledge) that anything was out of the ordinary.  
  
  
_'Shit, Tweek!'_  
  
_Kyle's cry had gone out across the gym and for a moment I had ignored it as it was the usual sort of vocal throw-out to be heard during an intense P.E. basketball match._  
  
_'Coach!'  This was from Marsh, who I saw rise from a kneeling position, look around hastily for our teacher and then move off in an effort to find him._  
  
_Arriving at the spot myself I digested the sight of Tweek lying on the ground, looking for all intents and purposes asleep.  Dropping down beside him I had looked at Kyle._  
  
_'Did he get hit with the ball?'_  
  
_'No, dude.'  Kyle's green eyes looked troubled.   'He just collapsed'._  
  
  
  
Tweek was 13 when he had his his first serious collapse.  What should have served as a warning to the Tweaks that something was seriously wrong with their son just got passed off as 'Oh, it's probably his new medication.  It does that sometimes'.  
  
The doctors at the Hell's Pass, where Tweek ended up that afternoon (after Stan finally found the coach and the coach finally called an ambulance) seemed to come to the same conclusion, the only thing they did was kept Tweek in overnight for observation purposes and, upon him eating some breakfast next day (two bites of toast, a small beaker of apple juice, thats all that's apparently required for proving you're recovered) they released him the next morning with a warning to 'make sure you eat regularly'. That's all.  Just the biggest non-sequiteur in the world and no tests.  Nothing.  
  
And we sort of just went with that, because, sure, Tweek was on some serious shit and we didn't know anything about how his body would cope with those over such a long period of time.    
  
I didn't know at the time it was meth in the coffee.  I didn't know at the time Richard Tweak was putting it in there on purpose in order to further his business aims.  I still don't know whether Mandy Tweek was in on the whole thing too.  She had her own mental health issues that she was struggling to deal with, as well as being a wife, mother and entrepreneur and I know she is great at turning a blind eye, (something that Tweek has either inherited or learnt from her as he does it as well).   So there was that.  
  
Some one should have picked up on the fact that Tweek's once radient and clear skin looked dull and lifeless, that it was loosing its elasticity and that the spaces under his eyes looked like two craters on the moon, causing a shrunken effect to his eyes.  Someone should have noticed the acutely inflammed acne along his jawline.  Someone professional should have put two and two together and got four.    
  
Did Tweek know?  Maybe he had connected the dots somewhere in the back of his brain, we along with the rest of our South Park cohort had to be among the least innocent of our generation of American kids.  But I didn't know and I had spent enough time around the internal workings of Tweek Bros. that I felt I should have suspected something was up.  
  
Maybe I was too busy trying to manage my conflicted feelings of the time regarding Tweek.  I had, only a few months shy of  a year earlier, begun to suspect that I was seeing him in a different light and it had confused and pained me greatly.  Consequently, I spent a lot of my internal energy shutting down emotions and making sure that nothing of my internal turmoil showed unintentionally.  
  
It did prompt me, however, to attend a first aid course.  Token already had his certificate but decided to come along as a refresher, and we both dragged Clyde along too, (bitching and moaning how he hated anything medical related along the way).    
  
I have kept up my first aid qualifications ever since.  I have learnt how important it is to have someone who can do something in a crisis.  Something is better than nothing.  Something is definitely better than nothing.    
  
The coffee drinking we all jumped on him for and tried to stop.  The quantity did slowly start to go down, but never as much as we hoped.    
  
  
_'How is he?'_  
  
_The noise of the party was still ringing in our ears, the bass of the music thudding through the house and drunken laughter coming from the living room only a few feet away.  We were in the hallway, which is where Tweek had had his second collapse._  
  
_My eyes had been glued to the screen on my phone where the stopwatch function ticked over.  I didn't answer Token, I was too busy feeling for the faint thread of the pulse in the skinny wrist my fingers were currently holding, and counting the fluttering heartbeats it seemed to reluctantly provide._  
  
_I swear my own heart stopped itself when I suddenly couldn't find it any more and a quick glance at Tweek's lips showed me they were starting to become blue._  
  
_Throwing down the phone I clasped my hands as I had been taught and put them on Tweek's chest in preparation to perform CPR._  
  
_The boy I had only just begun to realize I was falling in love with had gone into cardiac arrest._  
  
  
  
Looking back, the thought that Tweek could die then and there did try to cross my mind at that point, but I was too focused on saving him to let it take root and flourish into panic.  
  
Who ever expects in their life that they will have to perform CPR if they are not in the medical profession?  Certainly if you are 14 it isn't one of the things you ever really think about even if you do take a first aid course.  Truth is, though, it is one of those things you know could be lurking around the corner in anyone's existance.   And yet here I was, in this circumstance I had prepared explicitly for by paying a shit-ton of money to practice on a fucking rank plastic dummy on the fucking rank floor of the community center.    
  
There was no time to be scared or frightened.  I knew someone else would have called an ambulance by now, but time was not on the victim's side in these situations.  I knew I had to try.  
  
And I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn't succeed.  
  
  
_I was sitting by the hospital bed, carefully stroking the pale hand that was on top of the thin coverlet, a drip inserted in it and bound by surgical tape. Tweek was on a respirator and his skin was gray and sallow.  His eyes were finally closed, I had hardly ever seen them that way ever in our lives, Tweek was always wide awake.  If it wasn't for the faint movement of the blankets going up and down in his chest area, he would have appeared to be dead.  So many sensors and monitoring wires were attached to him, so many machines were beeping and displaying LED screens._  
  
_As I kept my lone vigil I was kicking myself.  Why had I let this happen?  Why did I not pay enough attention?  I guess in a situation like that we all ask ourselves these types of questions._  
  
  
Afterwards, when Tweek was lying safe in the hospital, after he had woken up and asked for a drink and had seemed sound in mind at least, the fear of the moment had come rushing over me and I found myself sitting in a toilet cubicle, head in my hands and wailing.   During the last few hours I had been constantly praised for my level-headedness and told that if it wasn't for me Tweek wouldn't be alive.   Now that everything seemed like it was going to be OK, now when it seemed like I could come off 'red alert', the adrenaline left my body in a big rush and I felt overwhelmed, drained and emotional.  These were not emotions that I was equipped to deal with even on an average day and it took some time for me to calm myself down.  When I finally emerged, snot and tear stained, big red marks on my cheeks where my hands had rubbed at them, I was a different person.  I was someone who had determined two things.  
  
1.  I loved Tweek Tweak.  
  
2.  I would do fucking anything to get him help in whatever way he needed.  
  
  
It was then I started pressing the doctors to find answers to Tweek's condition.   Which, as this hospital was not Hell's Pass but a proper one with proper professionals in Denver, they seemed happy to listen to me, slowly growing more and more horrified as my list of observations and dialogue regarding our experiences with Tweek went on and on.  
  
The upshot of my pushing was that Tweak Bros. got raided, Mr and Mrs Tweak got arrested, and the three of them, Tweek included, got sent to enforced rehab.    
  
You know that saying how everything gets worse before it gets better?  Yeah, well.  
  
  
  
_'Ashleigh, calm down.'_  
  
_The nurse's cool tone was meant to diffuse the situation.  I had stood there like a rock as Tweek dug his nails harshly into my wrist as he grabbed onto my arm with every intention to hurt me._  
  
_'Ashleigh.  Let go of your friend.'_  
  
_'WHO THE FUCK IS ASHLEIGH??!!!'  Tweek had screamed this and increased the pressure on his nails.   I'm sure it had been heard across the whole ward, along with my whimper of pain and protest and sadness.  By then I knew who Ashleigh was, it was Tweek's real name and the hospital staff refused to call him by Tweek.  Well, implications I guess, but he was already going through a headfuck with the withdrawal, and he was in an unfamiliar environment, calling him something he had never been called before in his life past 3 years old was helping weird him out._  
  
_And I was the only one he really knew there.  So I bore the brunt of his rage._  
  
_But it was more than that.   Somehow he had found out his 'friend' had 'told us your parents were feeding you meth'.   Absolute bullshit, but coming down off addiction is not a place where rational thinking has a berth.  The fact that he was not allowed to see his parents, that he was separated, did not help.  Tweek wanted his mom badly._  
  
_'Tweek'.  I had tried.  I went to stroke his hair, desperate to show him I cared, that I loved him, that he was going through a painful time but that I would do anything to take away his hurt and fear and help him to get back up on his feet._  
  
_'ARGH!' he had screamed, twisting in his bed with unbelievable strength and grabbing my other arm as well.  Then, with force, he pushed me away and let go so that I stumbled backwards into the wall and fell down on my ass._  
  
_I had looked up at him with shocked eyes, only to find him scowling at me in an intense rage, his features twisted indescribable anger._  
  
_He had said it quietly and almost calmly.  'Get the fuck out.  I fucking hate you.'_  
  
  
  
_A few minutes later found me sitting at the nurses' station while one of the attendents had just finished cleansing and bandaging my arm. I remember feeling the tears forming at the back of my throat, (you know how it scratches and closes off there first before your eyes actually start to scrunch up?).  I was determined that it wouldn't happen, that I wouldn't cry, that I would show a strong face and prove to the staff here and to my Mom who was waiting for me in the car that I was strong enough to look after Tweek, that I was a grown up, that no-man was going down on my watch._  
  
_I had felt my phone buzz in my pocket and when I got a chance to remove it a minute or two later saw that Bebe had sent a group message._  
  
_'Party at mine tonight!  6.30 pm! ' with a string of hearts and smiley faces after it._

 

  
And this is where Kenny McCormick stepped in.


	7. Between the Lines

_'Baby. Oh Baby. That's right. Just relax, Georgeous. C'mon.'_

  
_A shape, a body, leaning over, unbuttoning and unzipping and unwrapping layers of fabric, pulling at them slowly but with definite purpose._

   
_'Uh-huh, Beautiful. You're doing fine. Really good.'_

   
_A burning kiss, a knowing tongue licking and penetrating and whispering all at the same time._

   
_'That's it, Darlin'. That's right. Just let go.'_

   
_Calloused skin caressing soft, tender places. Teasing and stroking and cupping. A body arched in intensity, head far into the pillows, eyes screwed shut._

   
_'You're doing amazing, Darlin'. You look beautiful.  So beautiful.'_

   
_Extreme heat one moment, bone shivering chills the next, the sheets slicked with sweat, the air filled with a distinct musky scent borne of hormones and lust._

   
_'C'mon. Cum for me Baby. C'mon. Yeah, that's right ....'_

   
_Release. Euphoria._

   
_No more words, but a final soft kiss that felt like a congratulation._

 

_And down somewhere pushed away into a far corner ....._

_Guilt._


	8. When Totally Surrounded by Frenemies

The bad memories wisped and faded away and were slowly replaced by the raucous sights and sounds of the school cafeteria. I could hear Clyde telling Kenny off for saying I looked like something the cat dragged in, Kenny laughing in his high pitch 'everyone look at me, I'm hilarious' glee filled way before telling Clyde to either 'Talk or Eat, but not both at the same time' in a faux-prim schoolmarm imitation.

I didn't care.

'You need to stop being a pussy, Tucker'.

So passeth the third judgement one us in less than a minute of Kenneth McCormick as a visitor to our table. Perfect guest behaviour, not.

And ... a second judgement on me, I might add.

Did I care. Well, yeah, I did, but I was busy. By this stage I had spent a good minute lost in Tweek's shoulder, his fingers softly stroking my arm and that warm scent of his enveloping me and making me feel safe. He laughed at Kenny's assessment of me (dick!) and I could feel it rumbling down through his torso, I heard it in that way you do when your ear is pressed upon someone elses' collarbone, and it made me feel fluttery inside as always.

'Don't provoke him, Kenny'. Tweek came to my defense but there was still amusement in his tone. Rude.

His arms tightened around me in another squeeze and he gently started rocking me in a soothing manner.

This is my safe space, however fucked up that sounds, however fucked up that makes me in your eyes. Don't lecture me on all the 'putting all of your happiness in one person is a bad idea/you're too young to understand that this relationship isn't the be all and end all', yep, heard 'em all from various places and still don't give a crap.

'What is he doing here?' I ask Tweek quietly. My boyfriend sighed and let go of me in order to reach for his fruit cup. He's still not a great eater, and any fruit he tends to have is taken with a large dose of sugar. Such as cake. No baked goods today, though, and those peaches are in a diabetic-inducing sugar syrup.

I made the decision that Kenny had outlived his welcome here and push upwards, turning around to face him and in doing so separating myself from Tweek. Jimmy had launched into discussing something, I don't know and don't care, Lola and Esther were joining in with the narrative and Kenny was laughing and socialising with them.

'Anyways, I need to talk to you about something.' Kenny suddenly swung around from charming the rest of my table and faced me. I had just picked up my apple and had finished polishing off that wax crap they put on them to make them look more appetising (hint, it doesn't and it just makes it as annoying as fuck). I considered, instead of eating it, that I should throw it into that perfect face. With maximum force.

I hated the fact that someone, that Kenny, could still bring all of these uncomfortable feelings out in me, even though 'we' were a good two years in the past. I hated the fact my guilt was always fresh in my mind whenever those blue eyes and that leery grin showed up. I hated the fact I felt guilty at all, and then hated the fact that I was annoyed that I felt guilty.

I hated feeling confused.

According to Kyle's unsolicited information that he decided to grace me with, Kenny didn't take me to bed in order to ursurp Tweek, really, it was to comfort me. In any case, all I remember from that night is waking up in his golden tanned and freckled arms feeling terribly guilty. After tearing myself clumsily away I ended up falling half downstairs as my hangover and the alcohol still in my system overuled doing anything I wanted to do in a co-ordinated manner. But it wasn't the first time I had been drunk, and it sure as hell wasn't the last.

I don't know what Tweek's personal angle on me and Kenny was. I know he would know about my fuckup with him, someone would have told him. But he's never discussed it with me and I've never brought it up with him either. It's just another reason why I want the past to stay in the fucking past.

On a personal level, Tweek doesn't seem to have a problem with the bastard.

The point I'm trying to make is, Kenny McCormick might seem to be the sort of person who knows what's best for everyone, etc., but he leaves a fuckton of confusion in the wake of his meddling more often than not. I'm sure he's aware of this, he's too socially perceptive not to be, but he either doesn't care or still believes that what he does is for the greater good of whichever particular victim is his personal project for the week. (I remember that for a while last year a few of us were calling him by the nickname of 'Emma' after the character in the god-awful book we were forced to read in literature), (to which he responded by totally donning a wig and an empire line dress for a week until we were all bored by it).

I think too much. I know.

In all that time Token had grabbed my hand with the apple and forced it gently down onto the table.

'Drop the weapon, Craig'.

Best mates. Are they for you or against you? Who knows?

'What?' Clyde was instantly curious and protective at the same time, a state he is often in. This statement he directed at Gossip Boy. I could practically hear the rest of our table's ears pick up.

'I don't want to talk to you'. Yeah, I'm childish. 'Fuck off McWhoredick. Stop chasing me around school.'

Kenny's grin grew even wider. Lola started frantically whispering to Francis, Stephanie and Nichole exchanged knowing glances.  

'I looooove that you're always so full of yourself, Fucker. It's always about you, you, you, isn't it?'

'You're the one who wants to speak to me. You followed me here. You tell me if that's about me'.

To my right Token sighed heavily. I know, I've just gone and disapointed him again and I would get a lecture out of this later.

'Ahh, c'mon Craig' cooed Nichole. 'It's just Kenny'.

Nichole. You are not dumb, in fact, you are really smart. So why are you making absurd statements like that one?

'Get' I was blunt and made sure that my facial expression and body language carried the same message as strongly as possible.

'Tweek'. The imbicile seemed to have decided on the 'divide and conquer' strategy and had turned his attention around to my boyfriend. Waggle your dumb eyebrows at him like that one more time and I'll just .....

Tweek Tweak raised his eyes from his fruit cup, where they had been focused the whole time. With his peaches gone he automatically started fiddling with his plastic fork, digging it into the already much-abused plastic tray his lunch came on. He sighed as well, whilst giving Kenny a mixed look full of tiredness and slight warning. I knew that look. It usually meant I was going too far somehow and should stop right there. I was strangely jealous that he was using it on Kenny.

'I don't know, man'.

I bet Kenny hadn't noticed the look, I bet he didn't understand. Because he tried again. 'Tweekers ....'

'Don't fucking call me that, man.' Kenny hadn't paid any attention to his subtle signals, and now Tweek was up for the fight. 'I don't fucking know why you fucking came here, ok? Just leave us alone'

Zero to feisty in less than a second. That's my boy.

So, it seemed that Tweek did have an 'enough of fucking McCormick already' level. Excellent. Now was the time for Kenny to realise he had outlived his welcome and for him to slink away back to whichever other group he wanted to annoy today.

But then there was my brainless best friend, who had to go and put his fucking big-ass foot in the works.

'But what did you need to talk to Craig about, Kenny? ' Oh, Clyde, you can't let it go, can you. Not even Tokens frantic 'Abort!' face was going to do anything now that Clyde's curiosity had been piqued. 'You said you came here to talk to him about something? Why?'

Kenny beamed as if he had just been announced on stage for an award and dramatically looked around our table at what I'm sure he felt was his adoring audience. I'm surprised at this point he didn't stand up to deliver his speech. He did, however, focus at me.

I stared back, not giving him any quarter. He just smiled.

'Two things, Tucker.'

At this he actually did get up, and I was confused. But then he smiled again and I felt my phone vibrate against my leg in an announcement that I had just recieved a message. Kenny's hand was in his hoodie and I bet he was the sender.

'And this.'

A piece of folded refill notebook paper was unceremoniously tossed onto my tray and landed on the pizza.

'See you round, assholes. Token, Nichole, Steph.' He actually saluted the last three.

And with that he was gone.

Clyde reached over for the notepaper but I picked it up and slapped him away at the same time. Something about it was off, also I was curious about the message Kenny sent me but obviously that wasn't meant for other eyes on the table if he sent it to me so privately like that.

But the notepage ....

'Isn't that Wendy's writing?' Token came to the realisation first. Damn. I knew there was something off about this.

By then I had already unfolded the sheet, and fuck me for being stupid, because I should have totally been more cautious.

Within the margins, doodled in sparkly purple pen, were damning statements. Statements that damned Wendy, not me. But that wasn't to say I didn't feature. Those love hearts and initials definitely included me in a romantic fantasy with Testaburger.

Beside me Tweek actually squeaked. It was enough to make me turn towards him and I saw his eyes were starting to widen, his mouth was struggling as if he was unsure of whether to speak up or make a noise or what.

'Woah!' Clyde had come over to our side of the table and was looking.

Already Nichole had out her phone and was doing something, I don't know, damage control perhaps. Token was shushing Clyde and trying to deflect the attention of Jimmy and Francis, whilst Lola had come over too and was also looking over my shoulder.

'What shit is this?' Well damn, Tucker, you've finally found your voice.

'Looks like Wendy has the hots for you, dude!' Clyde declared this (loudly enough for the whole cafeteria to hear, the clown, and once again completely misreading the situation. He slapped me on the back, hard.

'No! She can't do that!' Tweek screeched this out like he used to. I think the tension of everything recently might have actually temporarily broken him if he's going for a relapse of behaviour. His hands did rise to his hair and I just dumbly held onto the paper in front of me rather than doing anything about it.

'Well, she can, she just can't make a move and homewreak'. Clyde decided now was an appropriate time to lecture Tweek on his rights as my boyfriend and Wendy's rights as an apparent ardent admirer.

By this stage most of the cafeteria were looking at us. I was sick of being today's entertainment host.

'This is a joke' I loudly declared. 'It's not funny. Someone's just trying to stir up junior high type trouble. Fuck this shit'.

Lola, Nichole and Token looked at me carefully. They knew I was lying through my teeth, they had seen the paper and they knew Wendy's handwriting and that she had never lost her elemetary-school era love of her purple sparkle gel pen. But I would sort that later. Right now this shit needed to be contained.

Ripping up the paper I tossed the pieces onto the tray in order to show that I didn't care who read it, I wasn't crediting it as source material. In completing this action, the bell for the end of lunch rang and I was relieved. This was one of those days you just wanted over.

I was sitting in my seat next to Toke in Physics when I remembered that Kenny had definitely said that he had two messages to give me and that the second one was probably on my phone. I knew I was going to regret it seeing as the first missive was fucking trouble, but curiosity got the better of me and checked it out regardless.

'Bud, not wanting to continue with the rumours, but .... you might want to ask Tweek a few questions.'

And then a photo. Quite blurry, but it was definitely Tweek in that posh coffee house. With his head leaning in conspiritorially towards a pretty brunette. They looked cozy.

They looked really cozy. And content.


End file.
